I clock in when the world is sleeping,Walk the halls where the shadows stay.Another night of pacing footsteps,Another mind lost in the fray.He’s talking back to voices only he can hear,Arguing with ghosts that won’t disappear.I see the fear behind his stare,A battle raging no one else can bear.
And I’m here on the night shift, watching him fall apart again.Watching insight slip through fingers trembling from the meds.He’s losing pieces of himself, losing friends, losing ground —But I still see the part of him that’s fighting to be found.Even if he comes back again… again and again.
He tells me the walls are whispering,That the ceiling moves when he blinks.He’s distressed by every shadow,Drowning in thoughts he can’t unthink.Side effects weigh heavy on his body,But the illness weighs heavier on his soul.He’s trying hard to hold on to reality,But the voices keep taking control.
I’ve seen him lose his family,Seen friendships fade away.Seen him cry for the version of himselfHe hasn’t met in years.
And I’m here on the night shift, watching him fall apart again.Watching judgment blur like fog on a windowpane.He’s losing pieces of his story, losing time, losing sleep —But I still see the spark in him that illness couldn’t keep.Even if he comes back again… again and again.
Psych ward doors know his name like an old familiar friend.He leaves, he tries, he breaks, he bends.But every time he returns, I remind him he’s not alone —That healing isn’t linear, and relapse isn’t a stone.It’s just another chapter on the road back home.
So I’ll stay on this night shift, steady as the lights grow dim.Holding hope for him on nights he can’t hold it for himself.And maybe one day he’ll walk out and never come back again —But until then, I’ll keep believing in the lightWaiting at the tunnel’s end.
